At the Airport
by Bethany Ruth
Summary: Eames admits to Arthur that he loves him. Three years later, Arthur picks him up from the airport and cannot contain his excitement. Rated M just to be safe.


Arthur knew, the minute Dom said that they'd need Eames, that this was his only chance to strike. If he left it any longer, then it would seem as though he was feigning interest, and if he jumped the gun with it, he'd come off desperate. Not that he wasn't desperate: he'd been apart from Eames for three years. _Three years_. Three, long, _long_ years. Arthur – although he'd probably never admit it out loud – was beginning to _miss_ Eames. Two and a half years ago. By now, it had escalated dramatically, which really isn't what Arthur was hoping for – or expecting. Arthur was genuinely expecting that; as with most things, this would fade with time. Unfortunately, Arthur obviously had the wrong phrase in his head: the more accurate one was apparently 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'. _How inconvenient_, Arthur couldn't help but think every morning when he woke up from dreaming about Eames, about the way they left each other, all those years ago. He still remembers it so vividly...

_Three years ago..._

"Arthur, I uh. I think I need to say something, before I go." They were stood beside a cab, Arthur waiting for Eames to get in it and go to the airport. The job had gone well, but Eames got a message saying his father had passed, and was heading back to Foggy London Town to see to his mother, brothers and sister, being one of the middle children, the family felt incomplete without him. Arthur didn't know how he felt about Eames leaving. He tried to think of an emotion as he watched Eames, standing there, being Eames. Clearly Eames had never heard of hair products, because his light brown, fluffy hair was splayed in all directions, giving his youthful face a sleepy characteristic that may or may not have made Arthur think his leaving would make Arthur sad. Moving on, Eames' clean-shaven, handsome young face may or may not have made a small piece of Arthur melt in the tiniest way. A thick neck supported by square shoulders and a broad chest, leading down to a slim waist and substantial thighs. Arthur swallowed; the feeling was _not_ going to be joy, that's for sure. Arthur then looked into Eames' eyes. Many a night Arthur had spent since this moment, getting frustrated with himself for not remembering the colour of Eames' eyes. They were either: grey, blue, or green. But Arthur could never be positive of which and it drove him crazy. The emotion there though, Arthur couldn't forget that, that was scorched into his memory: Eames looked apologetic. As though it was his fault his father was old and now he had to leave and that he wouldn't be back anytime in the foreseeable future. It was then that Arthur decided that his emotion towards Eames leaving would be sympathy. Arthur felt bad for Eames: that he had to leave when he obviously didn't want to.

"Yeah, what is it Eames?" Arthur asked softly.

"I uh. I just want you to know...Phwew." Eames exhaled nervously. "This is difficult. Arthur, I want you to know that I think you're amazing: you're smart, you're professional, and you have a beautiful elegance that radiates from you like a lifeline to those around you. You've been patient with me and accepting of the boundaries I've drawn for myself in this world we're in and I really appreciate that. You're loyal and trustworthy and I've never had a better friend. You're everything I could ever want and I; I'm in love with you." Arthur's jaw literally dropped and he just stood there, frozen to the spot. "I'm so sorry I have to go." Eames whispered as he leaned in and placed a chaste, sweet peck on Arthur's lips, his index finger gently caressing the bottom of Arthur's chin. "Goodbye Darling." Nodding, as if reassuring himself that he'd done the right thing, Eames climbed into the cab and headed off, leaving Arthur stood stock still, with his jaw still out of place, staring at the cab's retreating shape...

_Present Day_

Darling. No one had ever called him darling before. It was the moment that Arthur defined – about two years ago – that he was in love with Eames. And that whenever the next opportunity was placed, he would let Eames know about it. And now here it was: inception. Dom had told him that day in the warehouse that they'd need Eames, and Arthur offered himself gladly to pick him up from the airport. Driving the two hour journey, Arthur's nerves were all over the place; his hands gripped the steering wheel as he just practised breathing.

"Come on Arthur. If Eames can confess his love to you, you can _definitely_ do the same to him. You do _everything_ better than _Eames_, you will _not_ be beaten by him." This was Arthur's childish idea of a pep talk.

Parking in the airport car park, Arthur climbed out of his Lexus and quickly found his way to Eames' terminal. Waiting only made Arthur more nervous, but when Eames finally fell into his line of sight, it all washed away.

Eames looked as though he'd aged ten years in the three they'd been apart: his hair was parted at the side and gelled over, his face had acquired a few lines, around his eyes forehead especially, his eyes – his beautiful _grey_ eyes [_finally_ Arthur knew] – were tired, from travelling and stress. Eames' shoulders were somehow broader, his chest somehow stronger, and Arthur could barely contain his drool. Eames had gained a tan somewhere in these last three years that gave a leathery, experienced look to his appearance. Eames had obviously lost contact with razors over the years; his five o clock shadow was something to be admired. He looked so much older than Arthur now, and the image of Eames being his sugar daddy made Arthur hot in all the right places, which he never saw coming. Arthur briefly closed his eyes, allowing the smallest fantasy. Eames, with an arm around Arthur's waist, holding Arthur to his side, wearing a thick, fur cape and a crooked jewelled crown, leaning his weight on a gold cane: Eames looked more like a pimp than a sugar daddy but it would do for Arthur's miniature fantasy. Sugar daddy Eames bought Arthur expensive watches and silk men's lingerie just so he could tear them off with his teeth at night beside the pool. Arthur would boast about his gold-digging skills to his girlfriends over cocktails the nest day and they'd all sigh dreamily as Eames walked by them to give Arthur a passionate kiss, then hand him a shopping bag with an iPad 2 in it, and a black leather briefcase with a 44 magnum revolver in it, Arthur's favourite. Then Arthur would lean closer to Eames to whisper: "_Thank_ you Sugar Daddy." Arthur may or may not have – startlingly quickly - developed a tiny [or not so tiny] kink for calling Eames 'Sugar Daddy'; he had no daddy issues of his own but, aged Eames was just so, _so_ sexy with the nickname attached.

Opening his eyes, Arthur saw that Eames was approaching, and when his eyes made contact with Eames', he saw the man's face light up, and he could restrain himself no longer. One deep breath later, Arthur began running at Eames. Shock took over Eames' expression as Arthur ran up to him and jumped right on him, landing with his legs tight around Eames' waist and his arms around Eames' neck.

"_Eames_!" Arthur cried with joy, forgetting all about the people staring because Eames' hands were on his thighs, holding him close.

"Arthur, Darling-"

"_Darling_! Eames, you called me _Darling_, _nobody_ else does and I _love_ that you do!" Excitedly, Arthur grabbed Eames' face and kissed him, hard enough to bruise. Eames' face maintained the shock it originally held. "And I love your gelled hair and your beard thing, and your smile, and your teeth, and your lips, and just, you're whole freakin' mouth, and I love your _beautiful_ grey eyes, and I missed them so much! I missed the way you look at me and the way you laugh at me and the way you smile at me, and the way you kissed me before you left, I missed it so much."

"Ar-"

"And I love your voice! Your accent is my favourite I _promise_ you! And I love your jaw, and your neck, and your shoulders, and your tattoos, and your chest, and your _arms_. God, I love your arms. I love how strong you are, and how _big_ you are, and how safe you make me feel. Eames: I'm in love with you."

"Ar-"

"And you're so _sexy_." Arthur leaned their faces closer so he could whisper to Eames, kissing him nearly constantly. "You're so sexy Eames." Kiss. "You make me so hot." Kiss. "You make me so _hard_." Kiss. "You turn me on so much." Kiss, lick, _bite_. Eames moaned when Arthur bit his bottom lip and pulled gently. "Oh _Eames_!" Arthur groaned, squeezing his legs tighter, feeling Eames' muscles against him. "Eames, make love to me." Arthur whispered against Eames' lips, kissing him softly.

"Wha-"

"You heard me, make love to me. Right here. Right _now_." Arthur moaned, grinding against Eames' torso. Arthur's hands held Eames' face and he pulled their lips together in a fiery embrace. Arthur forcibly pushed his tongue through Eames' obscene lips and lathered Eames' mouth. Eames reciprocated eagerly, holding Arthur tight to him: making love in an airport was _so_ Eames. Arthur grinded hard against him one more time, then hopped down so he was back on his feet. Stood together, Arthur's eyes were on level with Eames' lips: Eames had that extra height over him that, combined with his extra breadth, made Arthur feel small and safe, like a kitten in Eames' palm. Eames' hands were on his hips and gripping him tightly; Arthur placed his hands on Eames' chest and bit his own lip at the feel of Eames' muscles. "Mmm, let's get this shirt off, I've missed your chest so much." Arthur unbuttoned Eames' shirt – which he hadn't noticed until now was so hideous – and pulled it out of his pants, pushing it off Eames' broad shoulders to reveal his glorious torso. "Oh, there they _are_." Arthur moaned, in reference to Eames' ridiculously muscular arms. Leaning forward, Arthur kissed Eames in the middle of the chest and worked his way downward, kissing and licking and sucking and biting. Eames' mind was blown – why would _Arthur_ be open to making love in front of the – now monumental – crowd? Eames didn't want to ask for fear of jinxing this beautiful thing that was happening.

When Eames felt a tugging at his belt, he looked from the crowd down to Arthur, who he found kneeling at Eames' feet, undoing his belt.

"Eames," Arthur began, nearly panting with excitement. "Eames I've fantasised about this moment for _three years_. I can't wait to have you inside me." Eames was impossibly hard by now, even more so as Arthur undid his fly and pulled his trousers down, standing up to kiss him once again. "Eames I-I've wanted this for so long. Even before you left, I mean, there was always something between us, I just didn't know what it was until you were gone, I'm so sorry."

"Darling, that's alri-" Arthur cut Eames off with his tongue and they rampantly kissed again. Pulling back, Arthur winked and licked his lips at Eames enticingly, slowly – so slowly – running his index finger down Eames' chest, over his abs, around his navel, to the waistband of his boxers.

"Paisley Eames, really?" Arthur smirked at Eames' choice of underwear, then pulled teasingly on the elastic. Then – slowly – he worked his hand in and touched Eames' co-

Eames awoke with a start. This was the third night in a row that he'd dreamt about Arthur seeing him again and confessing love for him. Eames really was the definition of optimistic. Like Arthur – after all this time – would still be anything close to interested in Eames. Eames' father's death had aged him terribly: he took on wrinkles that a 31 year old shouldn't have, he'd pretty much stopped shaving, and his 'attempt' at making his appearance better by wearing suits that didn't flatter him and were always mismatched [they were his father's, he just couldn't throw them out] and gelling his hair over to the side were doing him no good. His tan – gained from his new apartment in Mombasa – only made his wrinkles more obvious. The only reason he still worked out was so – just in case he bumped into Arthur at any point – Arthur might be wooed by his muscles. Eames sighed, what was he like. He was so desperate for Arthur to love him that these last few years, he'd found is impossible to get into contact with Arthur for fear of being rejected. Eames sat up and looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table, 4:45 am. Urgh, Eames should _not_ be awake for at least another six hours. Suddenly, Eames' phone rang. He contemplated ignoring it, but realised that he wasn't getting back to sleep any time soon, so he figured he may as well.

"Hello?" He answered, his voice rumbling and deep.

"Eames." It was Cobb, he had a job for Eames, inception. Eames accepted, he needed something to do or he'd go crazy, besides, last he heard, Cobb was working with Arthur. "Great, Arthur'll pick you up from the airport in twelve hours."

Twelve hours later, when Eames was walking through his terminal gates, he saw Arthur, looking directly at him, beaming a smile that spoke volumes: maybe – just this once – Eames' dreams would come true...


End file.
